The Roof Above Us
by Burningbridges
Summary: Severus Snape's niece is transferred to Hogwarts shortly before a rash of strange happenings begins, and all clues point to Greyhawk, the mysterious neice in question.
1. Default Chapter

This is a work of Harry Potter fan fiction that I have started just recently as... Well... I guess, a tribute to the release of "The Prisoner of Azkaban", which I have waited a long time for. Since it was my favorite of the series so far, I feel it is appropriate, therefore, to pay it its due respects. This story is sort of a cliché on my part, because I find myself  
playing the "Severus is an uncle" card, as I've seen a few others in  
various places on the internet do. I know, I know: a little old. But I  
couldn't help it. I've always wanted that chance to write about it, so, here it is! Despite the "cliché", if you hang in there, I imagine you may  
just enjoy this story.   
  
And please, R&R! I love to hear people's comments and criticisms, so please  
post them if you have any!  
  
Since I have already stated this is a fan fic, I feel the need for only a  
brief disclaimer: All of the Harry Potter characters, with the exception of Greyhawk, Aranel, and their pets (whom are my creations), are the work of and owned by J.K.  
Rowling.  
If you wish to read my own "100% by me, Vera" work, please feel free to read it when I get it up on – oh, and the poetry quote below is  
a poem by me (on )  
  
May the power of Freya keep you reading for the entire story!   
  
The Roof Above Us  
By StarMaker  
  
Follow old ties,  
The bonds are still strong.  
Bohdran hammers into the night;  
Beat for this aging moment in time.  
  
Chapter One: What's in the pillow?  
  
It wasn't quite as noisy as usual on the train to Hogwarts this year.  
  
Everything was somewhat hushed as the train slowly drew nearer and nearer to its destination. Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in their own compartment, observing the quiet tone everything had taken during this trip. It had been an uneventful summer; nothing new had happened, or changed in the least... "I wonder what this year will bring us," Harry said, casually thinking back to the horrors of the years before. "Well," replied Ron, "I'm sure it will have something to do with You-know- who. It always – well, mostly always has before... It seems to get odder every year... And worse." "Thanks for the vote of confidence," Harry muttered. "He's only being truthful," Hermione said, "It's as though Fate has it out for us all... But some strange force – a guardian – is making it falter... Something leading us - " She was interrupted by a muffled, yet very shrill laughter from further down in the car. As it continued, it was joined by another persons laugh; lower pitched, and less hysterical. The fist laugh became more forced, as though it was painful to be laughing so hard. Hedwig hooted uncomfortably in unison with Pigwidgeon. "Right – Let's change the subject," Hermione said, shuddering. "I wonder what's so funny," Ron said; bewildered. "I don't know, but let's go find out." Harry rose from the bench and headed to the door. He turned to see what was keeping them. Ron looked at him uncertainly, and Hermione coughed as to imply that Harry was prying, but after a moment, they got up to follow him – because when Harry is determined, nothing can stop him. They opened the door and steeped out, gathering their bearings as to where the laughter was coming from . They began to move down the corridor of the car, until they were sure it was one of the two compartments before them. It seemed obviously to be the one to their left. They listened intently to hear the conversation, out of viewing range, of course.  
  
"So," said the first voice, a female, "You already know someone at Hogwarts?" "Yes," replied a second female voice, "The one professor is my father's brother." "Have you ever met him?" "Uh, duh! I told you that a few weeks ago, didn't I?" "I dunno. Maybe I tuned you out?" "Oh... Well, yeah – He came to visit a few times... Usually around Memorial Day. I've always felt very endeared to him – he is my uncle, after all. But sometimes..." "What, is he bipolar?" "No. He can be very distant... And sometimes, unfriendly. But we've always been friendly with each other! Even if he is a bit morose."  
  
"Her uncle is at Hogwarts?," Harry whispered.  
  
"I heard something outside the door," the second girl said quickly. "I heard nothing," the other responded, but it was too late. She was already at the door. It had been too fast. Harry, Hermione and Ron had had no time to react. She opened the door, peered around the corner, and spotted them. "Eavesdropping, eh?," the girl said. "No, no – We were walking!," Hermione said. "Where?," the girl asked. "Uh – uh... Around!," Ron responded. "Either way, come on in!" She ushered them into the compartment.  
Now that they were next to her, they could get a closer look. She was tall, with short, spiky dark brown hair, and brown eyes. She wore a pair of glasses with rose-colored lenses, which was quite peculiar. She was in muggle clothes; a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt that read "HOSA", and a pair of black boots. "The name's Greyhawk –," she said, "Greyhawk Theriphixee... But if you wish, you may call me 'Riverbird'." She pointed to Harry and smiled brightly. "And you, are Harry Potter." Harry felt a little surprised. He was not used to people he didn't know knowing him. But then he remembered – he's Harry Potter – everyone knows who he is. "Uh – yeah, pleased to make your acquaintance! These are my friends Hermione Granger and Ron Weasly." "Pleased to meet you all," Greyhawk said, "But especially you!" She wrapped her arms around Harry in a tight embrace. "I have waited so long to meet you, Mr. Harry Potter!" "Just Harry – please!," Harry said, a little strangled. "Right, sorry," she said, letting him go. "This is one of my best friends – Aranel Skelter!"  
They looked to her companion, still seated on the bench. She was a little shorter than Greyhawk, with long dirty blond hair that was naturally curly. Her gray-blue eyes offset her hair nicely. She was wearing a red peasant top, and a pair of jeans. She smiled. "Hi." "Come, sit with us," Greyhawk said. They seated themselves, and looked around the compartment. It was mostly neat, except for tarot cards scattered on the floor, and a birdcage tipped over in the corner. A soft cooing met their ears, and they looked up to see a tawny-colored bird perched on a bar overhead. "Ever seen a Mourning Dove?," asked Greyhawk with a grin. The three shook their heads. Not only were they not familiar with this specie of bird, but also, they were not that familiar with birds in general. "It's a bird common to my home. This is my Mourning Dove, Foxglove." Greyhawk smiled, and made a chirping sound to Foxglove, who fluttered her wings and cooed again. "And these are my cat and my rabbit, Maeve and Miledh." She motioned to a tortoise shell cat balled up on her suitcase in the corner, and beside the suitcase, hopping around was a little brown rabbit. "Where are you from?," Hermione inquired. "America. We are both from Northern Pennsylvania," Aranel spoke, finally, "We're exchange students... Well, of a sort." "So," said Greyhawk, suddenly serious, "What did you hear?" "Nothing," said Ron, nervously. "I know you heard something. Don't deny it again, or I'll be forced to make you speak," she retorted. "We heard that you have an uncle at Hogwarts," Harry said quietly. "That's all?," Greyhawk laughed, "That's not so bad. Maybe you know my uncle?" "Who is he?," Hermione inquired. "Professor Snape," Greyhawk replied. Their jaws dropped promptly. "No offense," said Ron, "But is possibly, no – probably the nastiest teacher we've ever met." Greyhawk sighed. "See, Ara? I told you he can be that way." They looked at her imploringly, and she went on. "My uncle Severus is a very secretive man. He never really told us what was bothering him, or any of that. He could have a cruel attitude, and, overall, be unfriendly. But we loved him just the same. Most of the time, when he was with us, he was very kind, and very... What's the word? Um... Empathetic!" "I can't picture him being empathetic to very many people," said Harry, with a slight grin. Greyhawk shrugged. "I guess that his life just hasn't treated him well..." Harry felt a pang of guilt at these words. He knew why Snape was like this; it was partly his fathers' fault. "You said that he was friendly with you?," Hermione asked carefully; she thought this might cheer Greyhawk up, seeming as though she was looking a little disheartened. "Oh, yes," she responded, "he and I were quite good friends. He was always very serious, but we did a lot together and we talked all the time. We were somewhat close, if you can believe that." "It's hard, but we do," said Hermione. "He gave me this about four years ago." She held up her right hand, revealing a ring on her ring finger. "Black Onyx," she said, "This is my favorite ring... And it's the first I ever wore for longer than an hour at a time." Greyhawk smiled, and looked out the window. "That's sweet," Hermione said, smiling as well. "Yes, well...," she said, "who wants something to eat? I imagine there's something around here. Maybe in my pillow." "Your pillow?," Ron gaped. "Yes; it's like her pillow's enchanted or something – she keeps so damned much in the pillowcase!," Aranel said. "Like what?," Harry asked, curiously. "Hmm... Not sure myself! Let's find out!," Greyhawk grinned, opening the pillowcase and looking into it. She began to take out several objects, setting them aside as she continued. There was a human skull, a dead rattlesnake curled with its head raised and fangs bared to strike, a few ornate bottles of potion, and several other items, just to name a few. Ron picked up a plastic card that was in the assortment, and looked it over. "HOSA... What is HOSA?," he asked, pointing to her sweatshirt, and holding up the HOSA card. "Health Occupations Students of America," she responded smiling, "It was a program I was involved in back home. We study muggle health careers, and our teacher is capable of helping us get into the occupations we want to do." "Why were you in it?," Harry asked. "It's my life's ambition to work in the healthcare field." "As what?," Hermione asked. "A funeral director," she replied. "Are you SERIOUS???," Ron said, astonished. "Uh-huh. I've always wanted to do it. And I want to own a funeral home for the magical community." "That's pretty... interesting...," Hermione said, slowly. Greyhawk continued to rummage around in the pillowcase. She dug around for a long time before producing a large black bottle. She popped the cork for a minute, and sniffed its contents. "Tea," she said, "Mint and Elderberry, with a spike of rum." Grinning, she set it aside and produced another, this time, an amethyst bottle. "This is it!" "What?," Aranel asked, "Another one of your 'spiked' drinks?" "No," she replied indignantly, "A fizzing burdock and chamomile drink. I made it myself." She grinned proudly and set it on the floor. "You didn't poison it, did you?" "Oh, shut up, Ara. I don't poison people by accident." "What do you mean? Poison?," Ron inquired with a growing nervousness. "She used to mix and sell poisons. Her mother grows some poisonous plants from time to time, and she used them. She made a decent amount of cash, considering how cheap her customers were." "That's worthy of notation." Harry was certain now that Greyhawk and Snape were related. "So... How is professor Snape your uncle?," Hermione asked, trying to change the subject, quickly. "He's a distant uncle. Not sure how. We're a mostly pureblood family... Some of our family members aren't, but it doesn't matter to me. Heh, my half of the family mostly doesn't care – we just want to remain within ourselves. But there are those who have problems with muggles; my family isn't exempt from them." "So... You're related to all the other Pureblood families?," Harry asked. "Yup. Of England and of America." She smiled. "I have one huge family... From all corners of the world." "That means you are Ron are cousins!," Hermione said brightly, smiling encouragingly at Ron. He grinned weakly as Greyhawk gave him a big smile. With that, she pulled an object wrapped in metallic foil out of her pillowcase, that read "Roasted Chicken". "Found the chicken!," she laughed triumphantly, "Now we can have a bite to eat!" 


	2. The Aston Martin Mobile

Chapter Two: The Aston Martin Mobile  
  
"So," said Harry, picking at his drumstick, "Why are you guys out here?" "Long story," Greyhawk said, swallowing. "More or less, my mom is trying to clean our house (because it's a warehouse, practically) and doesn't want me to be in the way. Ara came with me, basically, to get out and about. We've been friends for about eight years, so it made sense." "So, you did this exchange thing?," Hermione asked. She was very interested. "Yeah, my mom contacted our English relatives and they agreed to broker a deal with Headmaster Dumbledore. I believe it was Lucius who brokered the deal..." "Lucius Malfoy?," Harry said, more distastefully than he meant to. "Uh-huh. He's another uncle or something like that. I was sure you'd know him since Draco's been telling me you're his classmate." Harry felt the urge to gag, but did not. Greyhawk, who seemed to be apt at deciphering unspoken thoughts, grinned and said, "Doesn't seem the type to make arrangements with Dumbledore." Ron laughed, and then, realizing he had laughed out loud, stared nonchalantly out the window. "Ara is also a pureblood. Her family's kinda crazy, so you might not want to ever meet them. Somewhere along the lines, she's my cousin. That's really all that matters." "Well, that and your posts to the Ministry of Magic," Ara grinned. "Posts to the Ministry of Magic?," Hermione said with interest. "Oh, yeah... I've been chatting with Arthur Weasly – your dad, Ron?" Ron nodded, and Greyhawk continued. "I've never met him. He's going to help me to – er – enchant some muggle- made instruments. The kind that run on electricity... He just needs to issue me a permit first." "What are the instruments for?," Harry asked. "For my own pleasure – and, well, if I receive Dumbledores' permission, I will start a band." "Hogwarts? With a band? That will be interesting," Ron said, "If you'd be interested in old students, I bet you could get my brothers Fred and George to try out. They have a joke shop in Hogsmead." "I would like that," she said, pausing for a moment afterward, then continuing on, "Your father is the one who has the flying Ford Anglia, right?" "You heard about that?," Harry laughed. "Uh... Yeah... Why?," Ron asked. "I was hoping he may be able to help me with a project..." "If it has to do with cars, you'll have to go through my mother first," Ron said, implying the story. "Then I'll do that. You see... I love my car very much. I've never driven it, but I intend to someday, soon, when I get my drivers permit. But... There's a problem I'll be persecuted. There won't be many major changes, just small ones... And I'd like some seasoned help." "Well, if I know my dad, I know he'd love to help," Ron grinned. "How do you keep the anti-muggles from finding out you have all these non- magical things?," Harry was puzzled. He was sure that someone would've found out somehow – but from what she had said, they all got along quite well. "Well... It's hard to explain... We – er – hide them." "You hid your car?," Ron said flatly. "I camouflaged it. And the rest of our muggle things we put away when anti- muggles are around. We have clever ways of doing it." She smiled. "To keep them from finding out we're pro-muggle, we've often had to lie. It's become a role-playing game at my house." Harry chuckled at hearing this. It was odd to think of a pro-muggle having to act like an anti-muggle. "Must be hard," he said. "Hell, yes!," Greyhawk said, "Especially with Pastor 'Psycho' around!" "Who or what, is 'Pastor Psycho'?," Hermione asked with a look of extreme confusion. "Pastor Malfoy – A.K.A. 'Pastor Psycho', the most 'illustrious, well-loved and respected' father of Lucius Malfoy. Then, under that, there'd be a notation that reads 'Not a real Pastor, but an imposter of one'." "His father is still alive??," this surprised Ron for some reason. "He won't die! It's like he's some kind of deathless freak that no one seems to remember! And yet, the Malfoys uphold his name in fame, honor and dignity, whereas no one outside our family knows him! How the heck can he be famous if nobody has a clue who he is?" "How old is he now?," Harry asked. "Old. Too old. After meeting him, I've wondered if all men are mortal, or whether some are spared the ravishes of time that bring death to us all." She trailed off as she finished her chicken. There was a long, uneasy silence. "Er... Uh... Where did you go to school before this?," Hermione questioned eagerly. She hadn't really met many other schools' students. "Well," responded Aranel, "We jumped back and forth between Muggle School and Wizardry School..." "But," added Greyhawk, "we're exceptional at magic." "Our School of Wizardry is called Awennasa - " "Which is Cherokee for 'My Home'." "Founded by Charles Theriphixee, Alfred Kilarnie, Hazel Theriphixee, and Ruth Shanachie." "The very serious pro-muggle, the farmer, the ecstatically cheerful, and the hard worker." "Since they were all family, they named their houses after different, miscellaneous things." "Charles was the head of 'Epiphany', Alfred was head of 'Meadowbrook', Hazel was head of 'Dragonsong', and Ruth headed 'Limerick'." "Epiphany – the house of those who have faced great change - " "– And great sorrow." "Meadowbrook – those who are destined for simple, well –lived, fulfilling lives - " "– With a family to keep them going." "Dragonsong – those who are capable of great love for life - " "– And when times are down, they always wear a smile." "And Limerick - " "– Those who face the future with uncertainty, but with the willingness to move mountains, if it keeps them busy." They laughed, before Greyhawk continued on. "I am the first Heir of Awennasa to ever attend another school." "... Heir of Awennasa??," Harry questioned. "I am one of the heirs of our Headmaster William Bradner Theriphixee – He's my grandfather, you see – when he passes on, my mother will be Headmistress, and I will take her place as a professor, until she passes on." "So... It's like a family business!," Hermione said. "Right!," Greyhawk praised. "You don't have to be a certain age or something to inherit positions?," Ron asked. "Well... We'd make some kind of arrangement so it would work – I'm almost seventeen, so I can take over, if I have to." "Must be weird going to a school when it's run by your family," Harry remarked, smirking. "Yes... But there are good sides to it," she answered. They were all silent again as the train rolled past a massive green field.  
  
A cold wind blew, and everyone groaned. Even the walls of the buildings seemed to shiver in the cold. Severus Snape shuddered, and drew his cloak tighter around himself as he continued to traverse Knockturn Alley. He wasn't sure himself what business had brought him here today, but he felt like wandering; and so that's what he did. The Alley was bustling, although it was bitterly cold today, and it seemed alive with Winter, although it wasn't near winter yet. Severus heard the calling of a crow overhead, and looked slowly up, and watched it perch on the roof of the building to his right. He was sure it wasn't so, but he had the nagging feeling that somehow this crow reminded hi of someone... but he couldn't tell whom. "Severus!," a voice suddenly said from behind him. He spun to see Lucius Malfoy flanking him, smiling as if he thought Severus was acting out of character. "I haven't seen you in such a long time!" "Yes," he answered sourly. "Our Greyhawk is attending Hogwarts this year, I expect you know." "Well, of course. She is my niece, too, Lucius." "Heh, I know, I know. I'm sure you'll keep a watchful eye on her?" "Of course." "We don't want her to – get into trouble... do we?" "No, we don't." "Be careful, then. You never know who could be lurking around." "Of course." "I'll see you tonight. I'm going to visit with her after the Sorting Ceremony." "Yes, good-bye, Lucius. I look forward to seeing you again." Severus rolled his eyes as he walked away. Of course I'll look after her, Lucius, he thought to himself, I'll do a better job than you did. He headed down the alleyway, and disappeared into the crowd. The crow cackled to himself and flew off. The Alley suddenly seemed foreboding in the coldness of the late Summer afternoon. 


End file.
